


Sybil the First, Sybil the Second

by WolfenM



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfenM/pseuds/WolfenM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After walking for a moment down memory lane, Thomas finally meets Sybil's daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sybil the First, Sybil the Second

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to the Redeemed!Thomas series "Trying to be Nicer", but stands alone just fine.
> 
> Thomas/Courtenay is only briefly mentioned.
> 
>  **SPOILERS:** through Season 3, ep 5 of _Downton Abbey_.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** Thomas Barrow, Tom Branson, Sybil Branson, Sybil Crawley, Edward Courtenay, Alfred Nugent, Robert Crawley / Earl of Grantham, Sarah O'Brien, Charles Carson, Richard Clarkson © Julian Fellowes / ITV / PBS. This is just fanfiction, not an official story for the series, and no profit is being made by the author.

It had been a month and a half since the death of Lady Sybil, and grief was still a suffocating, palpable thing in the house, both upstairs and down. Thomas, on occasion, found himself having to step into an empty room for a few moments to compose himself, having the handy excuse ready of checking clocks. He'd even had to _use_ it a couple of times -- although judging by the look in Carson's eye, the butler knew better. Knew better and forgave the lie: Thomas suspected he wasn't the only one who found himself in need of a moment of privacy now and then. In fact, Thomas suspected that the days just after the young woman's death had been the only time in all his years at Downton that anyone aside from Sybil and O'Brien had really been _able_ to empathise (not just sympathise -- although he hadn't had much of that, either) with him.

Of course, O'Brien herself had become far less empathetic, or even just sympathetic, since the arrival of her accursed nephew, but even she seemed too down in the mouth yet to work up the spirit to cause him any grief. And without her to guide Alfred, her nephew had been likewise lax in lobbing insults or staging incidents. Sybil's death was a terrible reason for a truce, but Thomas wasn't about to complain; if he couldn't deal with his own grief, he _surely_ couldn't deal with O'Brien. 

Lord Grantham was feeling under the weather (doubtless stress having caught up with him), and so this day Thomas had brought His Lordship breakfast in bed. With the family patriarch likely to _stay_ abed for the day, Thomas wasn't feeling too hurried as he made his way through the halls, carrying with him a few shirts with the intent to do some mending in the servants' hall. He glanced at the paintings on the way, and found himself stopped before one. He remembered a day when Sybil had told him about the man in it, after she'd found him admiring it during a free moment when he was House Manager, during the war.

_"That's my Great-Uncle Hamish," she'd revealed, smiling fondly. "He died when I was little, but I remember that he was a very kind man, and I loved him dearly. He died alone, having never married ... but it was only recently that I realised _why_. When I did, I confess I wept even harder than the day we actually lost him."_

_Thomas, unsure if she was saying what he thought she was, made no reply at first -- and feared that his heart was racing loud enough to be heard in the silence. They'd mourned Lieutenant Courtenay together; had she realised that his own grief was more than just for the loss of a patient, or even a friend ...? Finally, he managed to work up the nerve to ask, "Why was that, milady?"_

_"Because he wasn't allowed to love whom he wished, and was expected to love whom he_ couldn't _. Because that the majority of our lawmakers don't believe that _all_ Love is Good, which says to me that they don't know have the slightest idea what Love really is -- and so good people are made to suffer because of the ignorance of those in control." Her voice had grown increasingly tremulous and hard as she spoke, reminding him a little of when she had spoken out at Dr Clarkson in defense of the idea of Edward staying._

_She'd reminded him, Thomas had suddenly realised then, of Branson. He'd caught glimpses of them talking now and then; what had seemed innocent before suddenly became less so. With that thought, Thomas had suspected that love between men might not be the only kind of forbidden love that she felt needed defending. At least the love between a noble and a servant wasn't illegal, but if his guess was right, then Thomas reckoned she could more than sympathise with him and her late uncle (if he was interpreting what she was saying correctly), at least to _some_ degree._

_Sybil had been blushing then, but Thomas had nodded, as if there was nothing shocking about her words. "The world might indeed be a better place if people focused on solving real problems, like ... I dunno, finding murderers and feeding the poor and preventing wars, instead of troubling themselves with what two consenting adults do in the privacy of the boudoir," he'd grumbled in agreement. Then he thought better of his phrasing. "I beg your pardon for my crassness, milady!" he apologised, heat creeping into his cheeks._

_She'd blushed even more furiously then, but he quickly realised she was struggling to hold in laughter, not embarrassment. He broke first, a snort breaking free, and soon the pair's composure dissolved into hearty mirth. Thomas had reflected at the time that it was lucky his tastes didn't lie in the opposite sex, for he would surely have fallen in love with Sybil in that moment, and likely would have been doomed to another broken heart._

Thinking back on that day now, Thomas was again in danger of losing his composure, but in a far less joyous way this time. He ducked into the closest room -- which turned out to be the baby's nursery. Thomas bit back a curse at the same time he choked back a sob. The still-unnamed baby was one of the last creatures on Earth he'd wanted to see. Rational thought said that the baby was not to _blame_ for her mother's death, but Thomas also could not manage to overlook the fact that if not for the child's birth, Sybil would still be alive. The two events could not be separated, and therefore the baby couldn't be anything but a hateful reminder of the world's -- and his -- loss.

Could she?

Thomas hadn't actually seen the baby yet, save for fleeting glimpses, hadn't _wanted_ to see her. But now, as he turned away, determined to leave without so much as a glance in the crib, a gurgle caught his ear.

The baby might as well have said his name for all the difference it would have made -- he found could not ignore the wordless cry any more than he could have a summons from Carson, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

He unconsciously held his breath, then gingerly approached the crib, a shaking hand reaching for the wooden rail. When his eyes met the baby's, he sharply exhaled, his breath hitching.

It was Sybil's eyes looking back at him, kind and gentle. The baby smiled at him, and it was Sybil's smile. Never mind that the baby was too young to be kind or gentle or smile with such love and joy and sweetness. It only proved to him that Sybil herself had been _born_ that way, as her daughter had obviously been.

Thomas, who had never liked children or wished to be a father, was struck with a fierce need to hold this little life -- though if asked, he couldn't say if it was out of love for the baby or a need to touch this last remaining physical piece of Sybil. It wasn't a thought; it was an instinct. Lifting her from the crib, he was as careful with the precious infant as if the child were made of glass.

"So long as I'm alive, you will always have a friend, someone to look out for you," he promised the baby as he rocked her gently.

"That's good to know," came a soft-but-familiar voice behind him.

Branson.

Thomas just barely managed not to jump at the sound. "Oh! S-sorry, I--"

"It's fine," Branson assured him. "Sybil always spoke well of you and how you cared for others at the hospital; I'm sure she would be glad to have you looking out for our daughter. As am I," he quickly added. "I mean, the more to care for her, the better, right? The nanny needed to run to the village, so I told her to come get me when the baby was down for a nap, and I'd come up to keep an eye on my girl. I'd be glad of company, if you're not busy. We could play cards?"

Thomas almost said no. It wasn't like he and Branson had ever really been friends, and like with the baby, Thomas had been having difficulty not blaming Branson for Sybil's death. But Thomas realised now that they'd never been friends because Thomas wasn't really friends with _any_ one (save for maybe O'Brien once), and not because he had any real reason to dislike the man (aside maybe from his annoying politics). He also knew that Sybil's death wasn't the man's fault any more than it was the baby's, and Thomas couldn't hate the child now even if he tried. Besides, keeping the promise to the baby surely meant looking after her father, too. And Sybil would _want_ them to be friends -- of that, he had no doubt at all.

But most of all, Thomas saw his own grief over the loss of the youngest Crawley girl reflected back at him in Branson's eyes -- magnified a thousand times. Thomas could only imagine how crushing all that must be. It occurred to Thomas then that the entire household had to be reflecting pity back at Branson, constantly reminding the man that he was a grieving widower. The poor fellow probably couldn't even spend time with his daughter without thinking of it.

It had been a long time since Thomas had been accused of having empathy, or even sympathy. Just by being his regular, callous, aloof self, perhaps he could give the man a break from his grief.

"Sure, why not," Thomas replied, handing the child over to her father with surprising reluctance. "Have you decided on a name?" he wondered.

Tom hesitated, as if he were afraid to say. "Sybil," he answered finally, head raised as if prepared to face a challenge to the name.

Thomas looked down into that face that had reminded him so much of her mother. "It's perfect," he replied, nodding, looking up just in time to catch a small, fleeting, grateful smile on her father's face.

The baby smiled again herself, earning a brighter one from her father this time. "Would you look at that!" he whispered, awed.

Thomas understood then that Branson had already come to see the child as a source of comfort instead of grief -- a warm, living remnant of the Sybil they'd known and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't actually _seen_ season 3 yet aside from a few clips and all of the finale  & X-Mas special, so forgive me if this contradicts the show somehow! XD As for Thomas and Branson, while I don't think they became besties, exactly, it seemed to me that they were pretty friendly in the x-mas ep, after the tug-of-war. (Of course, that could just have been the camera catching Rob and Allen being chummy! XD)
> 
> "Trying to be Nicer" will be a multi-chapter / multi-fic series, starting with Thomas adjusting to the life-altering events of the finale, and going past the x-mas special. It probably won't be Thommy, but will at least showcase them as friends. It will also eventually include an OC love-interest for Thomas.
> 
> The first part of "Trying to be Nicer" is "[A Period of Adjustment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/779812/chapters/1468511)".
> 
> ###########  
> If you've enjoyed my writing, I invite you to explore my original fantasy storyverse, [Gaiankind](http://gaiankind.com)! You can even find Gaiankind stories for free [here](http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Gaiankind) on AO3!


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